A Rosy Revival

the air was cold, and so was I. I was angry at everything – the stress I felt from school, the devastating loss of a loved one, the way I’d been looking at life.

I had lost the motivation to be optimistic, crawling into a dark hole and convincing myself that life lacked the light it used to have. the sun hid behind snow storms, and my happiness hid behind a stubbornness that made me absolutely miserable.

my dad says pain is inevitable, but you choose to be miserable. it was time to heal. I turned off the sad, nostalgic music and unplugged my headphones, replacing the heartbreaking songs from apple with bright piano riffs that sounded from my own fingers. I took my hair down and curled it, remembering how it feels to have a look that you created – some exact replica of your soul that no one could copy. I painted my lips red and pulled my leather jacket out of the closet where it had spent too long without seeing the light. I wrote and wrote, letting the feelings out in letters that would never be sent or read, poems that had my heart spilled into different metaphors and comparisons, and the occasional rambles that made no sense and lacked proper punctuation. it helped.

after a week or so of reviving the part of me that had been covered by snow, I stepped outside to a seventy degree day that was pleasantly paired with a peach-and-lavender sky. the wind kissed my cheeks and warmed my soul. the sun shone a blazing scarlet, and put an overwhelmingly happy song in my heart. it never snowed again. winter was over, and spring was apologizing to me for what I’d been through. I suppose I was sorry too.